


Scenes From a Marriage

by lextenou



Category: Kim Possible (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Challenge Response, Community: Kim Possible Slash Haven, F/F, Jealousy, Secret Marriage, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lextenou/pseuds/lextenou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The course of true love never did run smooth.</p><p>Written as a series of responses to drabble challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part the First: Eulogy for a Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Mouse requested: the bride

There was something about that last morning of freedom before entering into the shackles of marriage.

Something that rang with a sense of finality.

The dress hung heavily on her frame, dainty flowers threaded in her upswept hair. In a half-hour's time, she'd no longer be herself...she'd be his bride.

Taking a deep breath, she smiled at herself in the mirror as the final touches were placed on her dress and hair, touch ups made necessary from the ride to the church.

In a half-hour, she'd kiss him before man and God, proclaiming herself his bride until death did them part.

She turned and nodded to her maid of honor. She was ready.

As she placed her hand on her father's arm, he beamed at her with pride and she swallowed bitter bile, her answering smile wan.

As they began their trek down the aisle, her eyes connected with warm brown and she couldn't help but to compare him to her...and despair.

Each step led her closer to her destiny, the life she must lead. The life she was supposed to want.

Why, then, couldn't she get the image of that wicked smile out of her head?

Why could she still feel those tender, loving fingers?

Shoving aside her feelings, she forced her smile wider and accepted her husband's hand. The sooner she thought of him that way...the sooner she'd accept it.

She had to.


	2. Part the Second: I Thee Wed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mouse requested: have you lost what little mind you had?

_If I think about this, I'll talk myself out of it._

_I have to get there in time. Shit, it's already started. No, can't think about that. Just concentrate on getting there._

She pressed harder on the accelerator, desperation edging at her. She refused to pay it heed, concentrating on just seeing her one last time.

Their last encounter had been painful.

This one would be as well.

It couldn't be helped.

Gritting her teeth, she turned the corner into the parking lot and screeched to a halt haphazardly. Tearing the keys from the ignition, she barely remembered to slam the door behind her before tearing down the path.

She drew to a halt outside the doors. On unsteady legs, she walked to the windowed panels and watched as the woman she loved married another.

"If anyone should have any reason why this man and this woman should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

She hadn't meant to open the doors.

She just had.

The squeak of the doors was loud in the still church. Heads spun around to evaluate the new intruder, in her worn jeans and simple t-shirt.

"Can I help you?" She couldn't tear her eyes away from the verdant green she remembered so clearly. Slowly, she shook her head in response to the priest's question. "Did you have an objection?"

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Everyone was watching her, staring at her, judging her. She couldn't do it. She had to get out.

Just as she was about to speak and excuse herself to run home and bawl like a baby, a soft voice spoke from the front of the church.

"Her objection is that I'm already married." The murmur of voices began immediately as the guests turned to one another in shock. "To her."

She swallowed with difficulty as the church erupted in chaos. Through it all, she couldn't look away from the tear filled eyes of her wife.


	3. Part the Third: Single Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuopiofi: Kim and Shego's wedding, before wedding ceremony

Distant bells announced the hour, their metallic clang echoing loudly in the quiet air as a steady trickle of cars flowed through the square of the historic Massachusetts town. The sun brightened the broad plain of the town square, now a historically protected park. A small banner on the town announcement board proclaimed it to be "Celebration Week", a neutral name the town had decided on for their town diversity festivities. If the town were larger, they might have had separate pride weeks, but the inclusiveness of the community - which to their mind included the nearby womyn's settlement - ensured that Celebration Week with it's parade was enough.

It wasn't Celebration Week that brought the slender redhead to the town. Nor was it her after school job.

Strictly speaking, a Cessna had brought her.

As for why she was in town...that reason strode from the diner on the corner.

Recognition was quickly clouded by confused suspicion, the split second of welcome in that familiar face sliding all too rapidly into restrained anger.

"I thought I said we were done." Growled low, the words were laced through with intense pain.

"I can't let you go without a fight."

A burning stare bored through Kim for a long moment. "You can't fight someone who's not there." Turning, Shego moved to stalk away. A gentle hand on her arm stopped her short.

"Please..let me. I just...marry me."

Black hair flew in a wild arc as Shego snapped her head around to glare at her erstwhile suitor. "What?!"

Kim swallowed nervously, her tongue escaping her barren mouth to moisten her lips. "That wasn't what I meant to say. I mean, not like that. I do want to marry you, I love you, I don't ever want to lose you, but I did and it hurts so much I never want to feel that again and oh my god I need to shut up."

Sharp green eyes narrowed, watching Kim as she fidgeted nervously, refusing to meet the censure she knew she'd find in Shego's hard stare. "You certainly change your tastes quickly." She turned her head, staring at the town clock, ready to chime the new hour. "You're dangerous."

"I never stayed with him, if that's what you mean."

No response came from the dark woman, her gaze intent on the distant minute hand of the clock.

"I...I'm sorry." Kim glanced up at Shego, freezing as she met turbulent green with her own tentative gaze.

"Are you serious about marrying me?"

Kim twitched at the question, her hand coming halfway toward her face. It dropped back down to her side, it's destination forgotten. "Yes." Desperate and raw, the lone word was all she could allow herself to utter.

Shego's smirk was unexpected, sending fear dancing along Kim's spine. "Good. Come on." The woman Kim had hurt so terribly, albeit unwittingly, strode off, obviously expecting the slim redhead to follow.

Which she did, though she couldn't stem her curiosity. "Where are we going?"

Shego didn't stop, her long legs eating up the ground with each stride. Kim thought she saw the edges of a decidedly evil smile when Shego glanced back at her briefly. "To get hitched, of course."

Kim almost stumbled, the surprise of Shego's statement making her feet clumsy. Then her mind paused for a moment, allowing all the pieces to fall into place.

A large grin spread across Kim's face. She picked up her pace to catch up with her fiancee.


	4. Part the Fourth: Enticing Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self challenge: invitation

When the invitation had arrived, I'd almost burned it.

Almost.

I'd actually laid a fire, lit it and stood there, the gold embossed cardstock heavy in my hand. I stared at the hateful words printed in stark relief.

_Dr. and Mrs. Thomas Howell, Esquire_  
 _and_  
 _The Earl of Windermere and The Countess Windermere_  
 _Request the Honor of your presence at the marriage of their children_

_Killashandra Howell_  
 _to_  
 _Viscount Lattersly_

_on the fourth of June, 2002_

I closed my eyes.

Killashandra 'Shego' Howell.

Damn her.

She'd lied to me.

She'd said she loved me.

She said she'd never leave me.

She swore before God and man that I and only I was her wife.

But she'd left. Claimed it was just a piece of paper. It didn't mean anything.

Didn't she see it meant everything?

I couldn't be as she wanted me to be. I couldn't. I was too scared to be...open. I couldn't risk their rejection. They're all I have.

Even moreso now.

I didn't burn the invitation.

Instead, I wrote a letter. Wrote it about five times. I did burn those.

_To whom it may concern,_

_It is with regret that I must decline your kind invitation. A situation remains unresolved that prevents my attendance. Please extend my congratulations to the bride and groom._

_Should circumstances change, I will be in touch._  
  
 _Cordially yours,_  
 _Kim Possible_


	5. Part the Fifth: Realignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by fortheloveofpizza's "Red" from the KIGO100.

I'd wanted to run.

As soon as she'd shown up in the doorway, her hair a glowing halo around her pale face, I'd wanted to drop the frilly bouquet and run to her.

Then the priest had spoken and I'd wanted to run and hide.

I don't know why I spoke out. No one would have known.

But she'd shown up. She'd said she'd be there for me, she'd said she'd never let me go, she had said she'd love me forever.

And I'd repaid her by…

None of that matters now. We did run. It didn't take long to get Winston to understand. He'd needed me, but I'd let him down. I couldn't go through with it, not when I had my Kim. Yes, he understood. He understood all too well. Maybe now the Earl and the Countess will lay off him for a few years.

Hell, I couldn't have  _planned_  that better.

Kim had no idea why I agreed to marry Knocker. Maybe later, I'll be able to tell her.

Right now, I don't care about anything beyond her teeth buried in my neck. She's tearing at the frilly lace of my dress, the pristine white creasing horrifically as she presses me into the bench seat of the limo. Knocker had taken the opportunity to be gallant in front of a crowd and gave it to us for the afternoon. That little shit.

I'll have to remember to throw Hego at him sometime.

Sometime after Kim is done marking me.

“Did you put this on for  _him_?” Her snarl is intense, a twisting of rage and frustrated desire. Her hands are gripping my lace covered breasts with bruising ferocity, forcing my back to bend and arch beneath her.

Panting, I shook my head no as her tight grip edged on painful. “He was never gonna see them. Plan was to get it annulled after the honeymoon.”

Her hands freeze for an excruciating moment, then gentle against me, her thumbs rubbing softly over lace and skin. “Annulled?”

Nodding, my chest heaved for breath beneath her tender touch. “He's gay…won't inherit yet…has to…God…has to keep up appearances. Fuck, Kim! Can we talk about this later?”

She stares at me for a long moment. Her hands are warm against the thin lace that barely protects me. Her slowly forming grin is downright predatory.

“You didn't wear one of these for ours.” Her fingertip brushes across my hidden nipple, the bolt of raw desire that rushes through me making me almost light headed.

I smirk at her. “So tear it off now.”

The scrape of her thumbs over my nipples is her only answer as she stares at the expanse of bared skin before her. My words have completely derailed her anger, which my breasts are grateful for.

Soft fingers trace the scalloped edge of my bra, caressing each swoop and indentation. Delicate and teasing, her nail scrapes slightly over the bare skin above the line of my bra, a hot line of sensation that tears through me with intensity, claiming everything I am. I need to be closer to her, there are entirely way too many layers of clothing between us. I still have enough presence of mind to raise a hand to tear at her clothing, until she drops her head and traces a slow path with her tongue over the exposed areas of my breasts. Heat floods me, scorching along my nerves and dropping my hand back to grip blindly at whatever I can grasp, whatever I'd been seeking already forgotten. Sweet mother of God, she feels good. Panting, I push up into her, seeking more of her teasing mouth.

It's better than I remembered.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, she releases the catch between my sensitized breasts, sliding her hands beneath the loosened lace to cup me. Reality narrows to darkness and her touch, the feel of her body pressed between my thighs, the flick of her thumbs over my distended nipples, they're the only thing that anchors me to this world. At this moment, if she stops, I'll cease to exist because she is everything. I ache for more, but my pleas are lost in her assault.

I don't know how, but she's reduced me to a crying, gasping wreck, desperate for her.

It's good to see nothing's changed.

Her hands, her mouth, they paint a delicious symphony against my skin, distracting me from her efforts to divest me of this hated dress. Voluminous and unwieldy, her jerky efforts to tear it from me return me to myself somewhat, just enough to help her rip the damn thing off.

Its tossed aside and I'm laying with my loose bra and skimpy panties on the bench seat of the limo. Fire blazes in her gaze as she rakes me with her stare. I can see myriad salacious thoughts running through her mind, and I heartily approve of each and every one of them. Her fingers move to her shirt and she pulls it over her head with as rapid a move as she can manage, letting me once again see the sight I'd craved ever since she'd left. Pert and beautiful, her breasts are encased in a simple bra, her nipples poking through the thin material. My tongue aches to be pressed against them, wrapped around her, tasting her.

Gently, her hand reaches out and runs over my exposed stomach. The delicate touch makes me clench against the swirling heat that thunders through my body and mind, the need to tackle her and kiss her barely exposed skin as viciously demanding as it had been the last time we'd been together.

I don't know how I managed to retain control until then.

Her skin is warm and yielding to my insistent touch, the smoothness of her stomach and sides welcoming my seeking fingers as her eyes closed to mere slits. If there's one thing I learned in our short marriage, it was most definitely how to dance across her nerves until she exploded for me.

I have to touch her. I have to feel what I've done to her, what touching me has done to her. My fingers seek her heat with unrelenting insistence, pushing aside clothing, sliding beneath soft cotton, until I'm surrounded by slick wetness. Oh, God. Tight. Wet.

Mine.

God…she's all mine.

My nose is buried in the curve of her neck, I'm surrounded by her heat, she's clutching at me, I can feel her nails curling in my hair. Breathy gasps sound near my ear, I shift and another erupts, god, she sounds good. I'm doing that. I'm the one making her feel that way. Her body is pressed against my own, sweat slick skin sliding together as we arch and writhe together. There's so much, so good, I almost want to cry from it. She's holding me so sweetly, letting me touch her in this way that I've craved more than my own breath. Each new caress brings with it a delicious cry of enamored passion that I'm now addicted to.

It's been so long. Fevered half-memories of her touch are nothing compared to the rich reality that exists, her fingers gripping my shoulder. She felt it, too, though our self imposed separation, the yearning…the craving. I can feel it, she's ready, primed…burning. Reaching for me, grasping at me, she strives for that which I give her. For that elusive instance of eternity that she finds only in my arms.

I don't want it to stop.

I don't want it to ever stop.

\- end -


End file.
